Lesley pointed out to sea. “What are the currents like around here?”
Ed squinted towards the water. “Certain times of day there’s a strong current flowing from Purbeck. It washes along the beaches on this side of the island, as the tide’s coming in.”
“So she could have been dumped in the harbour, pushed off a boat or something?” Lesley asked.
It looked like Simone had been assaulted before she’d gone in the water. But there were signs of drowning. Maybe there’d been a struggle, and she’d been pushed in. They’d know more after the post-mortem.
Lesley heard a whistle. She turned to see Whittaker summoning one of his assistants. What would it be like to work for the man, she wondered.
The two assistants bent and picked up Simone’s body, encased in a body bag. They moved it further up the beach and laid it down carefully. They would be waiting for a boat to take it off the island as quickly as possible.
Ed was watching. “There are plenty of secluded spots over there on Purbeck,” he said. “You’ve got the Arne nature reserve. And then past that, all the way up to Shell Bay there’s nothing. Footpaths, wildlife, sandbanks. It can be treacherous if you don’t know the area. She could have come from over there.”
“You think she fell into the water on that side?” Lesley asked him.
If she had fallen in, it would be more likely she’d been here, on the island. Or in a boat on the harbour. And that didn’t account for the bruising.
“What’s the depth of the water on the quay we came in on?” she asked him.
“Pretty deep,” he said.
“And the currents?”
He thought. “Again, depends on the time of day and the tides. A body dumped off there could be washed around this side of the island.”
“But?”
“It would be more likely she’d wash into the lagoon.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s to the north of the quay. Our best habitat for bird species.”
“So where is she most likely to have come from, given that she was found here?”
He wrinkled his brow. “In the harbour, really. A boat.”
Lesley didn’t want to take Ed’s word for this. She’d ask Mike to research the tidal movements, the currents washing onto this beach. They needed to know where Simone had most likely been pushed into the water.
“I need to know who’s used your boats in the last few days.”
“Of course. We keep a log.”
“Thanks. Are they all accounted for now?”
“They are,” he said. “We’ve got two. There’s the flat-bottomed boat your CSI team brought their gear over on, and the small passenger boat that you came in on.”
“I need those logs as soon as possible.”
He tipped her a mock salute and walked away up the hill.
Lesley wondered how wise it was to involve this man, especially before she had firm evidence. But she had to trust somebody.
Gail trudged up the beach, her feet sinking in the soft sand.
“We’re going to be here a while, Lesley,” she said. “I’ve got a police boat coming in so we can examine the water in the vicinity. See if we can pick up any scraps of clothing, anything she or her assailant might have dropped.”
“Have your team searched Simone’s house yet?”
“Brett’s nearly done. She kept the place tidy. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“OK. Keep me posted,” Lesley told her.
“Will do.” Gail turned back to the beach and called to Gav.
Lesley stared out to sea, wondering what Simone had done to deserve such a fate. Half-strangled and then drowned. It was like somebody wanted to kill her twice over.
Chapter Fourteen
Johnny was on the other side of the church as Lesley approached it. She gave him a wave to attract his attention. Grey clouds blocked the sun but it was still warm. She perched on a wall outside the church and waited.
“Alright, boss,” he said.
“You look a bit healthier,” she told him.
He shrugged. “Seasickness has worn off.” He looked towards the quay, clearly not looking forward to the journey back.
“We might need to stay here,” she said.
“Stay here?” He looked perturbed.
“I don’t relish the thought of going back and forth across the harbour every day,” she told him. “If we can get ourselves a room in that castle for a couple of days, we can get any interviews done quickly and be on hand if Gail’s team turn up any forensics.”
He gave her a long look, as if considering whether or not to object. “Fair enough, boss,” he said. “I’ll have to ring my wife.”
Lesley knew that Johnny had a young wife at home. She couldn’t remember the woman’s name.
“Have you got kids?” she asked him.
“One on the way.” He smiled, his eyes dancing. “Due in September.”
“No chance of it coming earlier?”
“Due date’s September the seventh. Five weeks to go. To be honest, I think she’ll appreciate having me out of her hair for a few days. She’s been a bit…” He caught Lesley’s expression and tailed off.
“Be patient with her, Johnny. It’s not easy carrying another human being around inside you. Especially in this heat.”
Johnny wiped his forehead as if only just noticing the temperature. “Yeah. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. Saves me having to take too many boat trips.” He grinned.
Saves me watching you look like you’re about to puke all over me too, Lesley thought. “Good,” she said. “I’ll see if they’ve got a room we can use.”
“A room?” Johnny’s eyes widened.
Lesley gave him a mock punch on the arm. “One each, Johnny. There’s no way we’re bunking up together.”
He breathed out, relieved. Budgets were tight, but she doubted that he’d really expected to have to share with her.
It would be an opportunity to get to know him better. He seemed to hide behind Dennis when they were in the office. She wanted to know what made him tick. Whether he had potential to go further, despite eight years as a DC.
“So,” she said. “Who have you spoken to?”
“The couple who found the body,” he told her. “Frankie Quinn and Adam Stanley.”
“And how did that go?”
“Their stories match up,” he said. “I spoke to them separately. She was at a team meeting at her manager’s house. Natasha Williams.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
“I have. It was her husband who made the call to the coastguard.”
“What’s the timeline?”
He checked his notes again. “The meeting broke up at around quarter to ten. Frankie Quinn left just after ten, her partner Adam was waiting outside for her. They went for a walk down to the beach, found the body.”
Lesley shivered. “Did they disturb her?”
Johnny shook his head. “Both of them say they didn’t. They went back to the Williams house and brought Natasha Williams back down to the beach with them.”
“Why?” Lesley asked.
He shrugged. “It seems Natasha wanted to see for herself before she made the call.”
Lesley didn’t like that. “Why would you do that? Surely every second they can gain in calling the emergency services…”
“Natasha couldn’t account for why she did it. Says she knows she was being illogical. But she got her husband to make the call, while she was gone.”
So Natasha Williams had believed Frankie Quinn sufficiently to call the emergency services, but still wanted to see the body for herself. Lesley filed that away as something she needed to follow up.
“Right,” she said. “So did any of them tell you when they last saw Simone?”
“Natasha saw her on Friday,” Johnny replied. “Simone took yesterday off sick, rang Natasha’s house, spoke to her husband.”
“Whose husband?”
“Natasha’s husband,
Bernard. She told him she wasn’t feeling well, didn’t come out of her cottage all day.”
“Was anyone else there? At the meeting?”
He nodded. “Anya Davinski, the other member of the team. She left in between Frankie leaving and her and Adam returning. And she says she saw Simone on Monday night.”
“You’ve spoken to her?”
“Yes, boss. Just talked to her. They met for a drink outside the café by the quay.”
“The café was open?”
He shook his head. “Anya said they sit there when it’s closed. There’s tables. She’s got a key to the garden, it’s a good place to watch the water. Apparently.”
“And what time did Simone go home?”
“About nine.”
“They walk together?”
“Simone left Anya at the café. Locking up.”
“Where does Anya live?”
“Opposite direction.” He pointed towards the quay. “One of the cottages by the water.”
Simone would have been walking up this way, past the church. If she’d been attacked, Anya wouldn’t have seen. Unless Anya was lying.
“OK,” she said. “So we’ve got Anya being the last person to see her alive, Bernard Williams the last person to speak to her. Did you believe them?”
“No reason not to.”
She eyed him. There was plenty reason not to.
“I want to know if anyone saw Simone on Tuesday, after she rang in sick. And if she was seen with Anya, on Monday night.”
“We can ask around.”
Lesley sighed. “Uniform are bringing more people in. There are forty-two people here, you and I can’t cover them all.”
“We need to cover them all?”
“Any of them could be a witness. I’d rather go to them than wait for them to approach us after they’ve all conferred.”
Lesley peered past Johnny, towards the farm buildings. Beyond there she knew Gail was working hard, trying to find as much evidence as she could before the tide washed it away. A body washed up on a tidal shore was far from ideal, but if anybody was going to find clues for her, it would be Gail.
“OK,” she said. “So Ed Rogers has told me he’s working on a list of visitors who’ve been here, National Trust members at least. And we’ve already got a list of the staff on the island, National Trust and John Lewis. I want to talk to the John Lewis manager. We need to know who saw Simone, if anybody had contact with her after Monday night.”
“Yes, boss,” he said.
“Talk to Ed,” she said. “Get a map of the island, work your way round those houses methodically. Let’s take advantage of the fact that people are stuck inside, not out working.”
“No problem.”
“And we’ll have more people here soon. Tina’s going to be over on the next boat, along with some uniform.”
Johnny looked relieved. “So maybe we won’t need to stay over?”
She wasn’t so sure. Truth was, she wanted to keep an eye on the people living on this island while the investigation was ongoing. “We’ll be as quick as we can, Johnny. Don’t you worry.”
She put a hand on his shoulder as she stood up. Her skirt was dirty from the wall. “Let me know if you get anything helpful, yes?”
“No problem, boss.”
Chapter Fifteen
As Lesley turned away from Johnny and headed towards the quay, she spotted a familiar figure in a Dorset Police uniform walking towards her. She approached PC Tina Abbott, smiling.
“Tina,” she said. “That was quick.”
Tina gave her a satisfied shrug. “We came by police boat, there are three more uniformed PCs with me.”
“Nice work,” said Lesley. She turned to beckon Johnny over. He gave Tina a smile which she returned.
“OK,” said Lesley. “I need the five of you to divvy up the people who work on this island. Start with National Trust staff. I’ll speak to the manager of the John Lewis lot.”
“No problem, boss,” said Tina.
She pulled a sheet of paper out of her inside pocket. “I’ve brought a full list of staff…”
“I’ve already got that,” Johnny said.
“…along with an organisation structure and a list of who lives in which house.”
Johnny visibly deflated. “Nice work,” he muttered. Tina gave him an awkward smile.
Lesley felt some of the tension ease out of her. It was good to have somebody efficient arrive.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Lesley told them. It wasn’t her job to make sure they got along.
“What do you want us to ask them?” Tina asked.
“Johnny?” Lesley said.
“Simone, that’s our victim, she was last seen on Monday night by her colleague Anya Davinski. We want to know if anyone else saw her after that, or if they saw the two of them together. And anything about Simone’s relationships with the other people here. Who might have wanted her dead.”
Tina winced. “Got it.”
“Good,” said Lesley. “Let me know how you get on.”
She turned away and passed three uniformed officers, all men, who were rounding the wall next to the castle. They each ma’amed her in turn and she nodded in response.
Lesley turned to see Tina and Johnny conferring with the three officers, giving them their instructions. Tina looked to be holding her own. Good for her. When she’d started in the Major Crimes team, she’d behaved like an imposter, paranoid that Dennis in particular would never accept her. But she’d spent the last two months proving herself, and now here she was, ordering her colleagues in uniform around. Maybe she’d apply for CID one day.
The officers peeled off and walked away in separate directions. Hopefully, these interviews could be conducted quickly. Maybe Johnny would be able to go home to his wife tonight after all.
No. Lesley wanted him with her at the 7pm staff meeting.
But first, she needed to speak to Yolanda Harte, the woman Ed had told her managed the John Lewis staff here. From what she’d seen, it didn’t look like the John Lewis and National Trust teams had much contact with each other, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a connection.
She walked towards the tall brick wall that surrounded the castle. It was imposing, forbidding. Keep out, it said, despite the lack of any signs.
As Lesley approached, a high black gate in the wall opened and a woman emerged. She was tall and thin with short blonde hair, wearing a blue suit. She was the first person Lesley had seen not wearing a National Trust uniform.
The woman walked up towards the farm buildings, taking a short cut across the grass and ignoring Lesley. Somewhere in the distance, that damn peacock wailed.
Lesley hesitated. If the woman was making for the beach…
As the woman approached the farm buildings, Ed Rogers appeared from beyond. He stopped when he reached the woman.
Lesley watched as the two of them fell into conversation. They spoke for a moment, then the atmosphere changed.
Ed was gesticulating, his head jerking, his skin reddening. The woman had planted her feet slightly apart and had her hands on her hips. Her back was to Lesley.
Lesley squinted. Who was this woman and why was Ed so annoyed with her? Was he trying to keep her away from the crime scene?
Lesley shifted sideways, towards the wall. She could vaguely hear Ed’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words. The woman was shouting at him, her voice high-pitched and shrill. Whatever it was, this pair weren’t happy with each other.
After a few more moments, the woman stamped her foot and turned angrily away from Ed. He stood with his hands on his hips, watching as she walked back towards Lesley.
Lesley straightened as the woman approached. Most people would turn away, pretend not to have been listening. But Lesley was a copper. It was her job to listen.
As the woman spotted her, her steps slowed. Her hair was messed up, she’d been tugging at it as she walked. What had happened to annoy this woman so much? Was she connec
ted to Simone?
As the woman neared Lesley, she stopped and gave her a haughty look. “Who are you?”
Lesley met the woman’s stare. “DCI Clarke. Dorset Police.”
The woman shifted backwards. “Oh.” She frowned, then started to walk past Lesley, altering her route to give Lesley a wide berth.
“And who are you?” Lesley called out as the woman was about to pass her.
The woman stopped walking, her heels almost skidding in the gravel. “Yolanda Harte,” she said. “I manage the John Lewis hotel.”
Chapter Sixteen
Lesley was about to follow the woman, intrigued to know why she’d been arguing with Ed, when her phone rang.
Damn.
The woman glanced back, having heard Lesley’s phone.
Lesley grabbed her phone from her pocket. “What is it?” she snapped, watching the woman hurry away. She eased the tall gates to the castle open and slipped inside, pulling them shut behind her. Lesley had no doubt she’d locked them, too.
“Sorry,” said Dennis. “I’ve got something you need to know about.”
Lesley put her hand to her head and dug her fingernails into her scalp. “What, Dennis? What’s so urgent?”
“You OK, boss?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Just tell me why you’re calling.”
She stared at the closed gates. That couldn’t be the only way into the castle.
“It’s the press,” Dennis said. “Mike just had a journalist on the phone. Sadie Dawes.”
“I know that name.”
“She’s the one who reported on Harry Nichol’s death. She’s a terrier.”
Lesley had nothing against terriers, except when they derailed her investigations. And she knew how disruptive a tenacious journalist could be.
She sighed. “It had to happen eventually.”
“She’s heading over there,” Dennis told her. “Told us she was ringing as a courtesy.”
“Oh, that’s very courteous of her,” she replied. “But no boats are coming in or out of this island.”
“She’s hired a private boat,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she moored up on one of the beaches.”
The Island Murders (Dorset Crime Book 3) Page 6
